


The Heiress of Rosendal

by Fangirlindisguise (FracturedMe)



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Ballet Dancer, Bergen, F/F, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Homophobia, Romance, Skamfiction Secret Santa, Time Period: 1920s, but not too angsty, it's gonna be extra cute but also a bit angsty, mostly fluff!, noorva, past trauma, upper class vs. lower class
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-16 19:22:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13060518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FracturedMe/pseuds/Fangirlindisguise
Summary: Noora Sætre is the heiress of Barony Rosendal. When she returns home after seven years to claim her inheritance however she is faced with an unfair condition: She must get married or she won't have her inheritance until she is 25.Eva Mohn is a young dancer, haunting the streets of Oslo for work with her friend with no success. Until a chance arises in Bergen.The 20s/ballet-dancer/friends-to-lovers AU no one asked for!





	The Heiress of Rosendal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ahana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahana/gifts).



> MERRY CHRISTMAS VARSHI!  
> So this fic is my gift to my dearest friend Varshi. I hope you enjoy the story. I meant to write a complete fic for you but somehow it's a three-chaptered fic now! I hope you like the story and the characters and I wish you a very merry Christmas and happy new year. <3  
> But writing this story would have been impossible if it hadn't been for a number of people who helped me along the way.  
> I must thank [Amalie](https://www.instagram.com/anchoram/), my ever so patient and helpful guide through Norway's history and culture. Without your help, I would not have realized my love for Rosendal and this story would have been a lot less interesting!Thank you for everything. I must thank my lovely guides to ballet and a dancer's life, [Noora](http://www.vildenooras.tumblr.com), and [Alice](http://isakvaltzrsen.tumblr.com/).Thank you for providing me with information about moves that I described as "the one with the leg up!" and teaching me the right terminology and talking honestly about being a ballet dancer. I hope this story does the art justice. 
> 
> And last but not least, I must thank my wonderful beta [Mackenzie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvensDramaticShenanigans/pseuds/EvensDramaticShenanigans)-who is the best Beta anyone could ask for! Thank you so much for being so amazing. <3- and my moral support [Wyonna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyoheartsmusic)\- who was there every step of the way. Without you, I never would have finished this story!You are so amazing and I love you so much. And everyone should check out these two lovelies' stories. They are two of the most amazing writers I know in the fandom.  
> And I would like to thank my beautiful, wonderful and just all-around-perfect family in Skamfiction. I love each and every one of you so much. You keep me going. I love you so much! *hugs the air pretending it's you!*  
> *A quick note about the historical facts and places. The Barony Rosendal is a real place however the gentrification of Norway's society and the usage of the house was tailored to fit the story I was trying to tell. I have tried to stay as true as I can to the information I was given but for the sake of the story some things have been dramatized or changed.  
> *Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me.They are the property of NRK and Julie Andem

 

* * *

 

                                     

A new home

Summer

June 1924

The car drove smoothly through the road surrounded by spruce trees on both sides. The branches leaned into the road, creating a natural green dome over the car. Beyond the trees, vast meadows stretched on for as far as the eye could see. Beyond them rose the great mountains, their peaks still white with snow.

Noora leaned back on the leather seat of the car and stared at the scenery. It had been years since she had seen the meadows, but she smiled softly to herself as she remembered fond memories of a childhood spent running through them, playing pretend and imagining her adventures as an explorer.

As an only child Noora never had any siblings to play with, and with her cousins living far away, their company was reserved for Christmas or weddings and other special occasions when they joined the family in Rosendal for grand parties.

For the most part, Noora spent her time playing with the cook’s daughter, Vilde, and the gardener’s son, Magnus. The three of them spent hours away from the adults, roaming the meadows and playing with wooden swords. If she was fair, however, she’d admit that it was she and Magnus who played with swords and Vilde would stand by, making flower crowns and throwing them judgmental glares.

Vilde was perhaps the most lady-like girl Noora had ever met! Even after years in the boarding school for gentle ladies of her own standing, she had yet to meet anyone who was as graceful and delicate as Vilde naturally was. With her soft yellow hair and button nose, she looked like the angels in the great painting of the pre-Raphaelite era.

Magnus was the true comrade for Noora; running right alongside her and fearlessly braving the beatings for their dirty nails and torn clothes. True to their family traits, Magnus like his cousin Vilde, had fair hair and skin and a perpetually innocent looking face that hid his mischievous intentions. Noora couldn’t wait to see them again.  

Not long after, the trees started to thin and from behind the horizon, the barony Rosendal came into view. The sight of the white manor and the rose vines clinging to it gave Noora’s heart a squeeze. She missed this place. Despite having left the manor with a heavy heart and dramatic threats to never set foot inside it again, Noora had always known that this was the place she really belonged to.

A small smile started to pull at the side of her blood-red lips. She was home at last.

As the car turned into the driveway and slowed to a stop, Noora could see the family lawyer, Mr. Bakkoush, and the butler, Mr. Hansen, waiting expectantly for her. She was not exactly happy to see them already there as she knew this meant a long, tense conversation awaited her. With a sigh, Noora grabbed Wilhelm from where he cowered at the side of the cab and growled angrily at a random spot, and got out of the car.

“Miss Noora! Welcome back home! I hope your journey wasn’t too tiring?” Said Mr. Bakkoush with a pleasant smile.

Noora smiled back despite her distress. “Thank you, Mr. Bakkoush. It was tiring but I’m home now,” she said. Noora knew Mr. Bakkoush for as long as she could remember. As her father’s lawyer, he handled all legal matters for the family. To Noora, he was more of an honorary uncle that an employee. “How are you, Mr. Bakkoush? I hope your family is well.”

Mr. Bakkoush’s eyes lit up and a dopey smile formed on his face. “Oh, they are doing quite alright! My daughter Sana was married just this past winter and lives in Tromsø with her husband now.”

“What wonderful news! Send her my congratulations please!”

Mr. Bakkoush nodded and after a moment of awkward silence, gestured towards the house. “Perhaps…perhaps we should go inside.”

Noora agreed and with determined steps walked back into her childhood home after seven long years.

*

Winter

November 1924

Eva readjusted her hat for the third time in fifteen minutes. Isak glared at her as she rose her hand for the fourth time and threw her a warning look. Eva grimaced sheepishly.

She couldn’t help it. This was their last chance. They had visited every theater house in Oslo and not a single meeting had been hopeful. And as much as Eva wanted to put on a brave face for Isak, she couldn’t help but think about the doomed state of their future.

Their landlord had cornered her in the hallway that morning and yelled for a good half an hour and threatened to throw their belongings in the street if they didn’t pay their rent by the end of the week. Not that they had much to be thrown out!

Since they had arrived in Oslo with all the hopes and dreams of any young dancer seeking fame and fortune in the city, Isak and Eva had barely had enough security to unpack their trunks of clothing. When they had finally given in and accepted that they no longer could afford to stay in their clean and moderately comfortable lodgings, Eva had broken down and cried over the fact that she didn’t even have a simple vase to pack. Isak had held onto her and they had rocked back and forth on the frozen ground as Isak whispered hopeful nonsense in her ears.

_“It’ll get better. We’ll find a job and then you can buy a huge, expensive ugly vase that you’ll hate for the rest of your life!”_

It had made Eva laugh and since then, every time things felt utterly bleak, they’ll tell each other stories about the ugly, huge vase and its adventurous journeys. But they had been too hopeful. Things only changed for the worse.

Since Eva had been fired from her job as a maid, they still relied on Isak working at the bar downtown. But after the last wave of unsuccessful trades, even the barkeeper hadn’t been able to keep the business going and now with both of them jobless and penniless, they had no choice but to leave town.

The dream of finding a job as dancers in theaters had died much sooner, however. They had secured small jobs as maid or barman in hopes that soon the theaters will start their work anew and they would be able to work as dancers, but still, nothing changed.

Eva looked up as the door creaked and the owner of the theater walked back into the room. He was an elderly man with a round belly, squeezed into his old brown suit and a thick grey mustache that curled dramatically upwards. His round eyes were sunken in and he had a sad expression etched on his face.

“I apologize for the wait,” he said as he sank dejectedly into the chair behind his desk. The chair creaked dangerously and Eva was worried for a second that it would just break.

The chair held.

“I am sorry to disappoint but I do not have a job for you here,” he said in a rush and avoided their gaze. Eva’s heart sank. Isak exhaled, frustrated. Eva could almost feel the hot energy coming from him in waves. She wondered if he would actually attack the poor old man and just as she was about to extend a hand to hold Isak back from jumping from his seat, the man continued to talk. “However, a friend of mine is starting a new theatrical performance in Bergen and he is looking to hire new dancers. He has a patron in the form of a young heiress- who seems to be a fan of fine art- and I can give you a letter of recommendation and to be perfectly honest with you, I don’t think you stand a chance here in Oslo so you might as well try this.

Eva talked before Isak had the chance to open his big mouth and ruin everything. “We would appreciate that.” Eva felt Isak glare at her from the corner of her eye but remain silent.

“Why did you do that?” Isak yelled when they finally left the theater with an address and exact instructions about meeting the man, Boukhal, their-hopefully-future employer.

“Oh, do you have a better plan Mr. Valtersen? Because we have been searching for some sort of work for the past two years and you know better than I do that there is no chance of finding a job here, anymore,” Eva shouted matching Isak’s tone and hand gestures. Eva knew Isak would try to argue back with the promise of finding another job and the like. So she went on before he got the chance.

“We won’t find other jobs. What would you do? Work at the docks? You won’t last a day! You’re a dancer Isak! And I’m tired of scrubbing floors. I want to dance!”

“Eva, we can’t leave for Bergen!” Isak urged exasperatedly, “we can’t give up now. We lasted two years. We can try a little longer.”

“No…no we can’t,” she cried with a shake of her head. “We have no money to pay rent and we have no hope of finding any jobs here. We have to go. Isak, I’m tired of this. I’m tired of hoping and hoping to no avail. This place, it’s like the sunken ships at the dock, they are done for and anyone who stays is doomed.”

“We might as well return home,” Isak mumbled. His head hung low and his shoulders were hunched. He looked defeated. Even the few curls escaping from beneath his hat looked sad. Eva’s heart ached. She knew what it had meant for Isak to come to Oslo. He had given up so much for this.

Eva smiled mournfully at him and quietly hugged him from behind.

“It’ll be okay. This is our chance. I have a good feeling about this.”  The tension left Isak’s shoulders and with a somber nod, they made their way back to their not-for-much-longer home. Though it had never felt like a home.

Eva could not remember what it felt like to have a home anymore. The concept was a farfetched dream, long forgotten and frayed at the edges. For now, Isak was her home and she was his. And as long as they could weather life together, they would be alright.

It was time to move on. Something new was coming.

*

June 1924

Inside the manor was as Noora remembered. Soft light fell into the hallway. The side tables against the walls adorned with bouquets of roses from the garden. The white and blue striped wallpaper and the scratched wooden floors. They were all the same.

Her handbag slipped from her hand and fell with a soft thud to the floor causing Wilhelm to jump away. But Noora didn’t notice these things. These hallways held the most cherished and most unforgiving memories of her childhood.

She still remembered the day that she forsook them all and left the house vowing to never return. The soft humming voices of the staff from the kitchen still haunted these halls.

If she just closed her eyes and took a deep breath, she could smell the tobacco from her father’s pipe that he smoked every evening in the library. The ghost of a much younger Noora running around the house chasing Vilde as they played hide and seek roamed these rooms.  

She smiled a small private smile. It was weighed down with bittersweet feelings of nostalgia and longing. She wondered for a brief moment, what her life would be like if she had stayed. But wondering is no good. There was no turning back and she would rather not dwell on the past.

She shook herself out of her frozen state and continued down the hallway towards the library. Her lawyer followed quietly.

“Shall we?” She called back without waiting for an answer. Mr. Bakkoush hurried after her as he dabbed his sweat away with a handkerchief.

Noora pushed the door to the library open and walked in. Her smile widened. Of all the things she had left behind, she missed this room the most. She would deny this if Vilde-for instance- confronted her about it but deep down, she knew it to be true.

The last Christmas she had spent at home, there had been a snow storm. They had been locked inside for weeks and Noora had just had about enough of her parents. After days of trying fruitlessly to communicate and spend stuffed afternoons in the drawing room sipping tea and pretending to be civil and miserably failing, Noora had decided to hide in the library and spend her time rummaging through the books and gazing outside and dreaming of one day escaping her prison.

In those days, all her travels and adventures happened between the pages of books. She jumped from concurring the wild jungles of Africa into a great ship, eastbound. She would spend hours, collecting book and building fortresses of the pages. Entrapped within, but safe. Unlike the rest of the house.

Noora had always felt simultaneously exposed yet bound inside the house. Never quite sure of her place. She had felt vulnerable and alone.

She felt a shiver go through her body.

The smell of old paper and spilled ink lingered in the room. Everything was almost comically in the exact place she remembered, or so Noora thought. She would swear that the statue on the third row had always sat a bit askew on the shelf and it had never been set right because no one knew if it was intentional or not and no one dared to ask. She was sure, it was her who had set the Ibsen play upside down, by the window as she had wandered out to engage in a much-needed argument with her mother. It was impossible, of course. It had been 7 years. The room must have changed. She went to the window seat and picked up the book.

There! Her doodling of a rabbit and a dandelion was still there on the edge!

She traced the outline, trying to remember the day. It had been summer. Mother has despaired constantly about the wasps in the garden. They had guests. And Noora was avoiding the unpleasant business of acting ladylike by hiding in the library.

Mr. Bakkoush finally caught up and with a heaving breath, walked into the room and set his bag on the reading table. He cleared his throat to catch Noora’s attention. Noora fought the urge to roll her eyes and instead turned towards the older man with the most pleasant smile she could muster.

“I believe there are some matters to be discussed,” She said smoothly and cocked one perfectly drawn eyebrow up. Mr. Bakkoush nodded grimly and took out a letter from his bag.

“Yes, I’m afraid so.” And he sounded it.

Noora shook her head. She was expecting as much. It wasn’t in her father’s nature to give anything away without any conditions. In this particular matter, she couldn’t really blame him, however. He must have assumed she would try the sell the manor away. Noora couldn’t say he was wrong to think that. The Noora her father knew would have sold the manor.

“Shall we start with the-” But before Mr. Bakkoush was able to finish his sentence, he got interrupted by a loud shrieking voice-like that of a seagull on the hunt. Mr. Bakkoush, startled, dropped his papers and bent down slightly as if to hide under the table from the clearly fast-approaching danger. Noora who knew exactly what the sound meant, approved of Mr. Bakkoush’s reaction.

Almost as if she had wheels for legs, Vilde ran through the room in a flurry of fabrics and blonde hair until she collided with Noora, locking her in a fierce embrace.

“NOORA!” She shrieked once more. “It is you! You are truly here! I can’t believe my own eyes! Oh, my sweet Noora!” She talked so fast and so excitedly that Noora had no time to reply and instead resigned to laugh out loud at her friend’s reaction.

“Yes, it is me! And it’s very good to see you again as well, Vilde!” Vilde giggled along with Noora and they once more squeezed each other in a warm hug and finally separated. Their arms still clinging to the other.

“Oh, I can’t believe my eyes! Magnus will be so disappointed he missed greeting you first thing today! He’s gone to the docks for the day! To buy fish!” Vilde said as she gestured dramatically around, clearly unable to contain her excitement.

Noora giggled and tightened her grip on her forearm as she said: “For goodness’s sake, Vilde! Stand still for a moment and let me look at you!”

Immediately Vilde froze. Her light green eyes wide and her cheeks red with blush. Her soft blond hair was tucked into a white cap. A few silver tendrils had escaped from it to frame her face. She still had the same innocent look in her eyes as she did in their childhood but her face had sharpened with an angular jaw, her round cheeks were now gaunt and her eyebrows had a haughty arc to them now.

Noora shook her head. “Look at you! You’re all grown up!”

“Why, Miss Noora, it might be hard to believe but the servant folk age too!” Vilde said in her sing-song voice and with a proud smirk. Noora swatted at her arm.

“Do not talk as such!” Noora chastised before both girls broke into another fit of giggles.

Mr. Bakkoush who had by now realized the imminent danger was just Vilde, had stood up straight and after fixing his coat and rearranging his papers, was now impatiently observing the girls and their mindless chatter.

“Miss Noora! Perhaps if we could finish our business…” Mr. Bakkoush interrupted sheepishly. Noora and Vilde stopped their giggles to glance towards the older man.

“Oh please, uncle Bakkoush! Can’t you put the unpleasantness for another day? Let Noora rest today! She only just now arrived!” Vilde pleaded.

Mr. Bakkoush pressed his lips. He knew Noora wouldn’t want anything more than to postpone reading the will. But she had arrived barely half an hour ago. And Mr. Bakkoush held a soft spot for Vilde, the girl had been a favorite since she and Sana used to be friends for years.

“Well,” he stuttered, “perhaps we can do this later this week after you have rested a bit and talked to your friends.”

Noora gave him a warm smile. “That is a grand idea, Mr. Bakkoush! We should go over this tomorrow. Perhaps over tea?” Her eyes were hopeful with a tinge of fear beneath all of that. He understood what she was going through. She once left this house with tears and a broken heart, leaving her parents behind only to return to an empty house and only a letter for her troubles. He gave a curt nod and hastily collected his papers to leave. They arranged a meeting for the next day. One of these days, she would have to face it.

*

November 1924

It was amazing how little effort they had to put into their move to Bergen. Between the two of them, they had two small suitcases filled with old clothes, twice-mended and one small bag of trinkets, the only things they had left of their homes before all this.

Despite the gloomy weather and their uprooted state, Eva was hopeful. Hope was growing inside her heart like a dahlia blossom, slowly unfurling. Every step they took seemed to bring the world into a clearer color. Despite the constant darkness of the cold winter, the scenery was alight in Eva’s eyes.

She thought about all the amazing opportunities awaiting them in Bergen. The notion of another chance to dance, to set her body free, was beyond tempting.

“I can feel spring on my face,” she told Isak one night as they rode to Bergen on the train. Isak who was nodding off in the seat beside Eva while holding a death grip on his suitcase and the bag sat up straight and gave her a funny look with his groggy eyes as his sleep-warmed cheeks stretched into a warm smile.

“It’s the middle of November, Eva! Don’t be silly!” Eva smiled back, looking out the window towards the snow-covered, frozen meadows. Her eyes twinkled. She looked magical. The blue glow of the moonlight fell over her auburn locks and created a violet halo about her head. After so long, her face looked healthy again. Her eyes twinkled and her eyes crinkled as she was almost constantly smiling.

“I know,” she sighed absentmindedly. “But it feels like spring is so near. As if I could blink and wake up to green trees and sun on my skin. Isak! I can remember the sun!” She breathed those last words in the quietest whisper.

Isak was slightly annoyed with her jubilance but didn’t say anything. He only huffed and readjusted in his seat and closed his eyes once more. The last thought on his mind was in fact if he did remember the sun or not. He fell asleep before he could give himself a proper answer.

Eva, however, was too excited to sleep. She couldn’t explain why but she had a good feeling about Bergen. She felt as though something great was awaiting the both of them. She knew their hardship had made a cynic out of Isak, but she was sure once they found a good job and safe place to finally settle down, Isak would come around as well.

Eva was so grateful for Isak. She would never have survived if it wasn’t for his comforting presence beside her. Isak probably wouldn’t have survived without her either. They were each other’s person. Eva and Isak; it was always going to be the two of them against the world. Long before they made their way to Oslo for work, Eva had taken over the duty of being Isak’s older sister. And soon Isak had settled as her brother and protector.

With this thought, Eva leaned against Isak and closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep with her smile still in place.

~*~

The track towards the theater was a tricky one. The ground was frozen and the snow came up to their calves, and with her thin stockings and well-worn shoes, Eva stumbled her way towards the grand structure on shaky legs. She was so excited that she felt her heartbeat in her throat. She could raise her hand and touch it! The future they had been waiting for so long was right in front of them. Isak pulled on her hand, urging her to walk faster. They were both jittery with excitement, small bubbles of laughter bursting from them every now and then.

Eva held her breath as Isak knocked sharply on the staff entrance door. For a moment, there was no answer so Isak knocked again. Eva swayed in her place, trying to create some warmth just as the vague sound of feet came from behind the door.

Soon, a young man with dark hair and a loose shirt and suspenders was standing in front of them, looking at them with a kind smile mixed with confusion. “Hello?” He said but it sounded more like a question.

“Hi!” Isak squeaked. “We are the dancers from Oslo. We’re here to see Mr. Boukal.” As Isak kept rambling on about the performance, a small frown formed between the man’s eyebrows. Eva felt something shift in her stomach. The wind bit at the nape of her exposed neck.

“Wait,” the man said. He shook his head and looked straight at them and said: “But we don’t want dancers, the performance is a play.”

Eva’s knees gave out as she fell to the ground. Her knees meeting cold, hard ice.  

~*~

She didn’t remember much after that. Next thing she did remember is a kind looking woman kneeling in front of her with a mug of tea and a pitiful smile as she told her everything would be alright. Her voice was muffled as though Eva was hearing her from underneath water. However, as she took small sips from the tea, the voices cleared. She could hear two men arguing in the background.

“This is your fault!” A young man with shoulder-length brown hair and thin built said in a harsh tone.

“How is this _my_ fault?” Asked the man they had met before in an equally harsh tone.

The man paused in his nervous pacing to think about his answer before he shook his head and said: “It just is! Everything is your fault, basically!”

“Right. That makes you sound very convincing and righteous now, Mikael! Well-done!” The kind man said mockingly. “That still doesn’t tell us what we should do with these children.”

“We’re not children!” Isak said abruptly from beside Eva and she whipped her head around to see him cowering in the corner, looking lost and alone.

It broke her heart. His shoulders were tense and his lips were pressed into a thin, pale line and an angry frown was wrinkling his brow. To anyone else, he simply looked hostile but Eva knew him better than that. She knew he was pressing his lips to hide their tremble but his nose still twitched in that way of his when he was just about to cry. And he frowned to force the tears away but Eva could see the shine in his dulled green eyes and his hands that were fisted into their bag of trinkets as he hugged it tightly to his chest like a doll a child would cling to for some protection that the doll was unable to give. Eva wanted to get up and go to him, to hold him in her arms and apologize for disappointing him. For the false hope.

Instead, She cleared her throat and turned to the strangers around them. “We are eighteen and we have been fending for ourselves for years, sir. We are no children.” She tried to put as much authority and vehemence in her voice.

The men deflated, gazing at them with helplessness and defeat.

“Of course. I’m sorry,” the kind man said to them.

“We were told you were looking for dancers. Do you not need dancers for your play?” Eva asked.

The men stayed quiet. Suddenly they were both more interested in staring at their shoes. This made Eva incredibly angry. She couldn’t believe she had built herself up for another disappointment. What had seemed like their chance at a good life was now shattered into a million pieces that cut into their bodies and hearts. Eva absentmindedly acknowledged the throbbing pain in her knees but the fast-growing numbness in her mind was more painful to bear than the physical pain.

The man called Mikael started to talk then. “Unfortunately, we don’t really need dancers. It is not a musical.”

“Perhaps…perhaps we could still give you a job!” offered the kind man with hesitation.

Mikael gave him a hard look. “Yousef, would you please follow me to the other room for a moment?” He asked curtly and without waiting for Yousef’s reply stormed out of the room. Yousef dragged his feet on the floor as he followed Mikael out and closed the door behind him.

“Are you out of your mind?” Mikael’s muffled voice came through the door. Eva, Isak and the woman all shifted around in silence before the woman suddenly stood up and clapped her hands.

“I don’t believe I caught your names! I’m Christine.” She introduced in a cheery voice. Despite the circumstances, she sounded genuine. Her round cheeks were rosy and there was a warm light in her eyes as she glanced between Isak and Eva. Isak shifted uncomfortably before he moved towards Eva and took a seat beside her. Eva immediately grasped his hand and Isak clutched hers in return.

Christine eyed their gesture with attention before her cheeks got even redder and she looked away. Her smile stuttered on her lips.

“I’m Eva Mohn and this is my friend Isak Valtersen.”

Christine looked back at her with interest and her smile was back with its full force. “It is very nice to meet you! You must be the most interesting dancers we’ve had here so far! We never get anyone here who has been working in Oslo before…well, there is our director of course but he’s really from up north. Strange young man. Actually, the lot of them are all strange! But they are kind and very talented too! I’m sure there will be some kind of job here for you! If that doesn’t work out, you can still stay with me and my husband. I make the costumes and he does the decorations! You can help us out here! It’s been such a dreadful business making all the costumes all by myself! And Kasper will surely appreciate the help.” Chris went on and on about this thing or that. About things that the actors had done or the demands the mysterious director had. Eva had never met someone who talked so much so fast. It was very impressive.

Eva and Isak were still staring at Christine as she went on with her soliloquy with their mouths hanging open when the door opened and Yousef and Mikael return. This time followed by a tall, blond man. The man was young still. Maybe five years or so older. He carried himself with a confidence Eva had only seen from dancers and he had the brightest smile on his face. He took one glance at Eva, his wise blue eyes piercing right through her before they settled on Isak.

Eva felt Isak’s hand go slack in hers and she heard more than saw his breath hitch.

Oh. Isak thought, he remembered what the sun looked like quite well now.  

*

June 1924

Once Mr. Bakkoush was ushered out and on his way, Noora dragged Vilde to the red room and settled on the settee with her hands still clasped around Vilde’s.

“Tell me everything!” demanded Noora.

“Me? It’s you who should tell me about all that you have seen!” Said Vilde in return.

“But I want to know about your life,” Noora insisted, knowing Vilde loved to tell long tales.

She could almost see the fight in Vilde’s eyes as she tried to make up her mind.

“No!” She said at last. “I want to know about England first! All I did was cook and sew and roam the same meadow day and night! You should tell me all about your experience as an educated English gentlelady!”

“What to tell…hmm,” Noora said. “Perhaps I should tell you about the time we snuck out at night and went to a jazz bar in summer! It was the most exciting endeavor! We had to make human-shaped lumps in our beds with our clothes. But we couldn’t use our pressed school uniforms! Instead, we piled up our books and wrapped them in old sleeping gowns! Then, we had to climb the Ivy tendrils roam the third floor and all the way to the ground! My roommate, Elizabeth, tore her silk stocking! She almost threw a fit so grand we had to return! But then Juliet came to the rescue when…” Noora went on and on, telling Vilde stories one after the other.

About exciting nightly outings and adventures beyond Vilde’s wildest imagination. She stared at Noora with gleaming eyes and gasped and giggled at all the right places. It was as though she were craving to hear all the stories Noora had to tell. Craving more with every new story.

“… and that was how we hunted a boar with our bare hands!” Noora finally finished her story. Her throat felt scratchy and she was in desperate need of water. She cleared her throat as Vilde gushed.

“My goodness, Noora! You have seen the world indeed! How wonderful!” She gasped in excitement. She then looked about and suddenly noticed how the shadows had gotten longer along the walls.

“Oh goodness me! I kept you talking for hours! Cook Aslaug will have my head! And you poor creature! You needed to rest! Come now! We made the master bedroom ready for you. Come, come! I’ll lead you to your room. You must rest now before supper.” Noora smiled and nodded her agreement as she let Vilde drag her to the second floor.

“We aired the room and I tried to touch up on it a bit, make it more suitable for you,” Vilde said the last part as she gave a careful glance towards Noora. Noora kept her face neutral, her faint smile still in place. As they reach the room, however, they both become quiet. Noora walked as though she were dragging her feet through mud. Her breathing became labored as she fruitlessly tried to calm herself down. They paused before the room. Vilde gave Noora a questioning look and only opened the door when Noora gave her a reassuring smile.

Before Noora was fully ready, the door was opened and they were walking into her parents’ old bedroom. The room looked almost exactly as it always had, with the long drapes around the ground bed and her mother’s powder desk across the room. The small settee by the window and the usual vase of yellow roses on the table. The only difference was the frilly bedding that Vilde must have put on the bed instead of the drab old bedding with its black lace and midnight blue velvet. Noora stopped in the middle of the room, trying to take everything in.

Vilde silently stood against the doorframe with her hands clasped in front of her and she observed Noora.

For the first time in the longest time, Noora felt small. She felt like a speck of dust or a helpless toddler alone in a crowded street. She felt a shiver down her spine. Despite the warm weather, the room had a chill trapped in its hand-painted wallpapers.

“I…I’ll let you get some rest,” Vilde said as she walked out of the room backwardly. But just as she was about to set her foot down a shrieking noise filled the air startling Vilde into the room. Startled from the noise and the jolt of skipping into the room, Vilde’s legs twisted together and she fell to the ground with a short-lived scream. Noora, also startled from the commotions rushed to her side and asked her if she was alright.

“What was that?” Vilde asked after she had assured Noora that she was unharmed. They both turned to look at Wilhelm who was now lazily lying on the carpet and was taking the room in with bored disinterested eyes.

“That’s Wilhelm,” Noora replied lamely. “My cat.” The explanation was redundant but Noora had realized she herself sometimes needed the confirmation. They had a complicated relationship.

“He seems… nice,” Vilde said with a disturbed grimace on her face.

 _Well, that is putting it nicely!_ thought Noora not without humor. “He has his moments,” she said out loud. They stayed on the ground watching Wilhelm, who for his part ignored them completely before they finally stood and Vilde left Noora to rest.

Peace wouldn’t come. Noora tossed and turned on the floral bedspread but sleep would not come. She felt as though any moment her mother would storm into the room to chastise her for messing the bed. She squeezed her eyes shut but the tension in her shoulders didn’t let go.

She sat up abruptly. Wilhelm gave her a dirty look before he closed his eyes again and started to purr. Noora ignored him right back as she slid out of the bed and made her way towards the door. The hallway was quiet, but she could hear the faint conversation from downstairs as the maids worked around the house. When she was sure no one was on their way upstairs, she stepped into the hallway, closed the door and made her way towards her old bedroom.

She silently prayed that the room wouldn’t be locked. She gave the knob a twist. The door opened with a small click. It was clear that the room was recently dusted. Her dolls sat in a clean arrangement against her dollhouse. Noora made her way towards them and picked up her favorite one.

Victoria.

She traced the doll’s porcelain face and shiny brown hair with the tip of her fingers. She drew in a shaky breath and clutched the doll to her chest as her thin shoulders began to shake with silent sobs.

_~*~_

_Tick tock tick tock tick tock_

_A little girl is sitting by the fire, playing with her little dolls. One is a princess. She has long yellow hair made of wool and a golden crown sewn on it. The other is a fairy. With glittering wings and a pink dress. The little girl loves the dress._

_Every night, before going to bed, she prays that when she wakes up, the dress would be there. It hasn’t been so far. But she knows if only she wishes a little bit harder, she’ll get the fairy dress._

_She brushes the fairy’s red hair with her small chubby fingers and hums to herself._

_“Stop crawling around on the floor, Noora! You’re not a child anymore. Stop acting like a feral animal and put that doll away!”_

_*_

December 1924

Life had been split into two parts: Before Bergen and after Bergen.

After Bergen started the moment Even -the play’s director- laid his eyes on Isak and decided Eva and Isak were the new members of their theatrical family and everyone else had no choice but to accept this.

After Bergen was living in Christine’s father’s Inn-which she had inherited after his passing and ran with her husband Kasper. It was having their own bedrooms and sitting around a table, the four of them, like a real family, as they shared food and laughed at funny stories.

After Bergen was spending the days cleaning the Inn to earn their keep or sewing clothes for the theater.

After Bergen was Isak becoming quieter and more distant than ever. He always got secretive when something was bothering him that he stubbornly wouldn’t share with Eva. Like when he lost his job that one time he was hired to dance at a small ballet or when their landlord threatened to throw their belongings in the streets.

Isak always wanted to handle everything on his own, to carry the weight of the both of them on his own shoulders, to protect Eva from all and any harm that might come their way. And while Eva appreciated his concern, she did not like to be kept to the sidelines of their lives. She was a woman of her own making and not even Isak had the right to take that away from her.

But while Eva could always decipher those imminent dangers based on their prospects, she could not figure out what was causing this new bout of secrecy in Isak. For the first time in a long time in, they were finally safe. They had jobs and a place to sleep, food and friends! So Eva could not understand what was bothering Isak so much.

And while Christine and Kasper were good company-one with her constant chatter and jokes and the other with his silence and reassuring smiles- Eva missed the intimacy of her before Bergen life with Isak.

In before Bergen life, so many sleepless nights had been spent with the two of them facing each other and whispering to each other about their dreams and fears, giving each other hope and comfort when it seemed the rest of the world had abandoned them.

In after Bergen life, Eva hardly ever found the time to speak with Isak anymore. Between spending her morning cleaning rooms and her afternoons gossiping with Christine and the rest of the actresses in the theater as they sewed clothes, and with Isak helping Kasper in making the sets and other works around the theater, they only had the supper to talk and Isak was avoiding her like the plague.

Still, in this new life, Eva had new friends. Like Ingrid and Sara, two of the main actresses in the play. The two girls who had been with the theater for much longer than Eva had many adventurous and romantic gossips to tell about the people of the play.

“Yousef was in love with this rich girl, apparently,” Sara said one day, with her eyes wide and her voice lowered, “but she paid him no attention!”

“I can’t imagine how stupid she must be to not love a person like Yousef. He’s the most handsome, most romantic man I’ve ever met.” Ingrid gushed with a dopey smile. Sara snorted and rolled her eyes.

“You think every man that smiles at you is handsome!”

“I do not!”

“You do!”

“So what happened with the girl?” Eva asked when she could no longer hold back her curiosity.

“Oh, she married someone else and then Yousef wrote the play we are going to perform,” Sara replied nonchalantly and went back to arguing with Ingrid.

The girls had soon forgotten about Yousef and his lost love and were arguing about other matters. But Eva was stuck thinking about it.

Did the girl truly not love Yousef?

Did she marry that other man because she loved him or because it was more appropriate?

Eva wondered if the girl ever sat alone in her room and cried silent tears for a life she could have had with a man she could have loved.

That night Eva couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned in her small but comfortable bed and when it became clear that sleep was not an option anymore, she tiptoed her way to Isak’s bedroom. Because if she couldn’t sleep, she sure as hell was going to keep Isak awake too!

She knocked once on his door before she turned the knob and slowly peaked inside. Isak, upon hearing the door open, groggily turned towards the door to see who was disturbing him at such a late hour.

“Eva? Is that you?” He asked, his voice husky with sleep. Eva nodded sheepishly and walked closer.

“Can’t sleep?”

Eva shook her head. Isak sighed and scooted to the side so Eva would be able to lie beside him. Eva hurried towards the space beside and laid down, facing Isak.

Back in Oslo, they always slept like this when things got too hard. They’d lie down, facing each other and link their hands together and tell each other soothing stories.

“One day, you are going to be belladonna!” Isak had said once and Eva had snorted. “What? I’m serious! You are so good, Eva! One day, you’ll be a true star! Everyone will remember your name.”

“What about you?” Eva had whispered back when her laugh had died down and they were quiet again. Isak had shrugged. They didn’t say anything for the rest of the night.

Now, Eva laid beside Isak; their postures, an echo of their Before-Bergen life. Isak’s eyes were barely open and it was clear he was trying very hard to stay awake for Eva.

“Isak,” Eva started hesitantly. She was quiet until Isak nodded for her to go on. “Do you think you will ever fall in love?” Isak’s eyes widened at her question.

“What? Why are you asking me this?”

Eva shrugged as best as she could as she played with a loose thread on Isak’s pillow. She avoided Isak’s eyes as she answered him. “I was thinking today if I’ll ever meet anyone I could truly love. Do you think we still have a chance for love?” She then looked into Isak’s eyes, needing to see him and see his true answer.

“I don’t know,” Isak whispered back. His voice barely audible. “Why are you thinking about this so suddenly?”

“I just… did you know Yousef loved a rich girl but she married someone else?” Isak shook his head. “He did. I just don’t want to marry without loving someone. And this made me wonder if we would ever have a chance for that.”

“Of course they’d love you, Eva. You are the kindest, sweetest person I know. How can anyone not love you?” Isak said with a faint smile. He untangled his left hand from Eva’s and pushed back a lock of hair from her face. “You’ll meet the love of your life and you will marry and you will be the most beautiful bride! Then you’ll live happily ever after! Like a fairy tale.”

“What about you?” Eva echoed. Isak’s breath hitched. His hand froze.

“I…I don’t think I want to marry anyone, ever.” He answered, not meeting Eva’s eyes.

“I don’t think I want to marry anyone either,” Eva whispered back. At this confession, Isak’s eyes shot back to Eva’s and he stared at her in disbelief; speechless. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to marry someone I could truly love and I’d rather never marry than to marry because I feel obligated to. Do…do you understand?” Eva asked with desperation coating her words.

She needed Isak to understand her. She needed him to reassure her that it was alright. That she would be alright, in spite of everything. That they were going to be alright and they would always have each other.

Isak nodded. “I understand,” he said silently. Eva gave him a tentative smile and squeezed his hand. Isak repeated her gesture and then they slowly drifted to sleep.

By the time, Eva was awake the next day, Isak was gone and they went back to barely speaking again. In the meantime, Eva had found an escape in the form of the theater. It had been almost a week after they had settled in and Eva was sweeping the stage when Even approached her.

Eva liked Even. Even was the type of person who took over the atmosphere of any room he was in. No matter how many people were in the room or how much more glamorous they were, when Even entered, all eyes drifted towards him. Everyone loved Even and Even-for some unknown reason- liked Eva and Isak so everyone liked Eva and Isak, too. One smile from Even had been all it took for Isak and Eva to decide to stay in Bergen.

He had drifted into the room with Mikael and Yousef that fateful first day and in the face of the mesmerized youths, he had smiled brightly and extended a hand to shake Eva’s and then Isak’s hand-lingering a bit too long on Isak’s, Eva had noted- and introduced himself as Even Bech Næsheim the director of the play and asked them if they’d like to stay for dinner. Eva had been too startled to answer and based on the silence that followed, Isak was not fairing much better either and everyone waited in an uncomfortable silence for several moments as Eva and Isak gawked and Even smiled brightly at them before finally Isak cleared his voice and thanked him and accepted the invitation.

Ever since then, Eva had developed a liking towards him. He was always so kind to them both and especially to Isak who got very shy and defensive in unfamiliar environments. Even always stopped to talk with him and Eva liked the idea of knowing someone was looking out for Isak.

So when he approached her that day when the theater was closing and Eva was busy sweeping the stage, she stopped her work to smile at him.

“How are you, Eva?” He asked her with a kind smile.

“Very well, thank you,” Eva said, returning his smile.

“I hope the work is not too much.”

“It’s alright! I’m used to hard work.” Eva looked around as if to speculate the work and compare it to her standard of “hard work”. Even followed her gaze and looked around the stage before dropping his head and smiling softly. His long lashes softly brushed against his cheeks. He finally focused his piercing blue eyes on Eva and said: “Isak told me that you dance.”

Eva’s eyes widen as she did not know Isak talked to Even about her. “I do,” she confirmed tentatively.

“He also mentioned you miss dancing,” Even continued. Eva could feel the conversation was building up to something but she was not sure what.

“I did not know Isak talked about me so much,” she pointed out instead.

“I hope this is not overstepping my boundaries, Eva. But when Isak mentioned it to me, I thought the least I could do was offer you to use the theater. After all, you are the person cleaning the stage every day after rehearsals.” Eva stopped sweeping once more to properly gape at Even. She couldn’t process the words she heard.

“I hope this won’t cause any problems between you and Isak?” Even said, now slightly less sure of himself. His pupils tightened as he tried to read Eva’s reaction.

“Use the theater for what?” Eva asked instead. She could hear how her voice sounded course and almost aw-struck.

“For dancing, of course!” Even responded with a shrug. “There is no music but I thought you might like that. I’m not sure, I’m sorry. That was a silly ide…”

“I would love that!” Eva interrupted him before he could go back on his offer. “Thank you Even! I really appreciate it.”

Even sighed in relief and smiled. “My pleasure.”

And so, since that night, Eva stayed at the theater after the actors left and danced for a while. Or tried to. She was out of practice, so for the first few weeks, the price of her late afternoon trysts was aching muscles and bleeding toes. But she pushed on, and every day she felt a bit more of her power return. The process was excruciatingly slow. She had hardly had any practice for over a year and with no instruction, she had to go on by her instincts.

She spent the first two weeks warming her body up. Making her muscles relax and regain her concentration. When she finally started to practice her dancing, her heart beat double time in anticipation.

_What if she no longer could dance? What if her body had forgotten years of practice and dedication?_

But as she closed her eyes and gave in to her body’s memory, the music flowed through her as memories returned. The challenge was great. Her ankles and knees screamed with pain and she was drenched in sweat in no time at all. As she held her fingers in rigid positions, they shook under the pressure. She heaved and huffed and gasped to catch her breath. And still did not give up. When she finally was able to do a pirouette, it was as though all that labor had come to fruition.

If you asked her why she loved to dance so much, she would be tongue-tied for a while. All the pain and dedication seemed to be too much and they would be right to doubt anyone would enjoy that. But there was something else. There was a stability in the movements, in following those precise steps.

When Eva danced, everything faded away. It was just her body, the music, and what she could achieve with them.

The only thing that came close to describing the feeling was that when she knew she had the ability to create something beautiful and ethereal with her body, it felt right to do so. She belonged to the movements as they belonged to her. When she danced, she knew she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

Eva had always relied on the music to find her flow. So the issue of having no one to play a quiet piano to accompany her movements was a bit of a problem. But Eva learned to adapt. As she set her mind in a blank state of concentration and focused to move her body in the positions she had to maintain, she let her mind provide her with music.  

The quiet strings of a lone violin playing would echo through her mind and slowly she would raise her arm to it. the music twirled and bellowed and rose, and she moved her arms as wings, flying her across the land, over the fjords and the snowy mountains, higher and higher until she could touch the sun with her fingertips.

She would twirl with the wind as the flute sang its melancholic ode. She would blow away with the wind, between the freshly grown flowers in the meadow, between the golden locks of a maiden awaiting the return of her beloved.

Her body would ripple with the notes of the harp, a mythical creature of the sea, thrown this way and that by the tides, blue of water shimmering all around her. Her legs were no longer legs but vines spreading through the soft ground, growing and finding root in the bed of the forest.

At last the music would settle, sluggish and sleepy, and she would bow to it, pour like rain upon the stage. And she would open her eyes and suddenly she would be back in the darkened theater.

No music, no sea, no mountain. She would be covered in sweat and feeling more alive than she felt in a very long time.

Isak joined her sometimes. Those times would be more playful. They would try to move in sync or up-stage each other and more than once end up wrestling on the floor, tears falling from their eyes as they laugh.

They would warm their bodies and Isak would complain that his body would never let him dance again. That it had been frozen into wood! He would stumble around the stage, lift his hand in odd shapes and hold them so as branches and walk about in a funny pace yelling: “I AM THE TREE BOY!” Eva would giggle and run away as he followed her about.

Eva felt blessed. With Isak by her side and their new friends and a safe roof above her head, she finally felt as though she had arrived home.

*

August 1924

Noora sat with her arms crossed and her foot tapping the floor is a steady rhythm. A stubborn glare in her eyes. Across the room, Mr. Bakkoush mirrored her look with one of his own, his arms sitting accusingly on his hips. They looked like a scene from a comedy.

 _The Taming of the Shrew,_ Noora decided. _Over my dead body,_ she threatened.

It had been almost two months since Noora had returned home and the atmosphere had soured quite fast!

The morning after Noora’s arrival, Mr. Bakkoush had once again returned and this time they managed to get through the will, much to Noora’s dismay…

“He has demanded I do what?” Noora had asked through clenched teeth. Her eyes had been two thin slits and her nostrils flared dangerously. Mr. Bakkoush had felt cold sweat break on his brow. “You will have to marry or I will be in charge of your state until you turn twenty-five.”

“But…that is unacceptable!” Noora had practically shouted. Realizing this, however, she had taken a deep breath and tried to compose herself once more. However, that proved very difficult.

“Well, y-you do not have to marry. You could always wait until you are twenty-five. Most wills are written so these days. And I assure you, I will approve anything you wish me too, you have nothing to worry about on that front,” Mr. Bakkoush had said as he watched Noora pace around the room like a restless lioness.

“This is not about you, Mr. Bakkoush. I truly appreciate your help. But…this-this is about trust! I am twenty years old now! I can take care of my own state! I do not need to answer for my actions! And I certainly do _not_ need a man to give me permission to use my money. And I don’t mean you, Mr. Bakkoush. I mean the trophy husband!”

“Well, there is no harm in talking to a few gentlemen now, is there?” Vilde had cautiously asked later that day when Noora had told her all about it with wild gestures and screeching voice. She had paced the room some more until she finally settled down on a chair and began to angrily help Vilde with cutting the vegetables.

Noora gave her an incredulous look that Vilde completely ignored. “Well, what can you do, Noora?” Vilde continued stubbornly. “Every woman has to marry at some point. Might as well start looking over eligible bachelors now.”

“What if I want to remain an old maid and spend all my money on financing poor artists?!” Noora questioned just as stubbornly.

“You can’t do that, now, can you,” Vilde mumbled back. Noora had glared some more and huffed and pouted for a bit longer before excusing herself and returning to her room.

She could not accept this. After all this time, returning to this house was hard enough. But now she once again, felt the hands squeezing her throat, stealing away her breath. Her ghosts no longer roamed these hallways and yet, they still took over her agency from beyond the grave.

Noora wished, for once in her life-just once- she would be able to make her choices without her parents’ decisions hanging over her head. Even when she rebelled, when she ran away, when she stayed away, they were all reactions to her parents’ actions before her. She felt tears building behind her eyes.

 _I refuse to cry over this_ she told to herself and willed her breathing to return to normal.

Three days later, she announced that they will be holding a dinner party for some very distinguished guests. Everyone was wary of this development. The house held its breath as it awaited a storm to approach.

Soon, it became clear that Noora was actually considering getting married.

But those hopes soon evaporated as weeks passed and Noora was not a step closer to meeting her match. The young men were always “too boring” or “bad at conversation” or “not well educated” or “ugly”. Noora was by no means a vain woman. Though people would argue that she was one of the most beautiful women to grace the face of the earth, she had never let the compliments get to her head.

She had always stayed grounded and stood by the belief that beauty faded and what mattered was the person she was and not her appearances. That she would be judged by her knowledge and actions.

However, in her crusade of denial, it became clear that no excuse was too low for her to use!

_“Too tall,” Noora said as she fixed her diamond earring._

_“But he is taller than the young gentleman before and you said he was too short,” Vilde pointed out exasperatedly._

_“Well, this one was too tall.” Noora still fiddled with her jewelry and missed the stink eye Vilde was giving her._

_…_

_“Did you notice his hair?! It was like he hadn’t washed it in years!” Noora’s nose scrunched up in disgust._

_“That is not true, Noora! The poor man looked perfectly clean,” Vilde said as she brushed the crusts that fell on Magnus’s vest as he took another huge bite from his sandwich._

_“I really hope, for both our sakes, that’s not the standard you are holding the house’s cleanliness to!”_

_Another crumb fell from Magnus's lips._

_…_

Everyone watched as Noora became more bitter and forlorn as the time went by, rejecting all the most eligible candidates one by one until she was left with a handful that clearly had no chance of winning her affection, it soon became clear that marriage was not an option.

And yet with every week that passed, Noora became more daring in her demands for money. She would set herself up to challenges, withdrawing more and more money from her family’s treasury for grand plans that would make Mr. Bakkoush sweat and squirm as he tried to keep up.

The house became even more somber and cold than the days after Noora had suddenly left for England.

On one particular occasion, Noora had walked into the dining room as two of the maids- Mary and Milfrid were dusting the room. She had just come out of the library after she had declined the advances of one very furious and very humiliated Nikolas Magnusson.

Milfrid had stared at the floor and quietly scrubbed the blue flower printed china when Noora had wandered to the chest upon the drawer. She retrieved a single teaspoon and let the lid drop. The lid made an obscene noise as it fell in place with a loud _thud._

Milfrid gasped, her hand jerking. In one very prolonged moment, the plate slipped from her weak grasp and despite her feeble attempt to catch it, fell to the ground and shattered to a million pieces.

For a moment everyone stood frozen in place. All breaths were held within. Milfrid stared in horror at the pieces scattered all over the Persian rug. Her cheeks were red like a Heritage Rose.

Noora gazed, almost unseeingly, at the floor. “That was my mother’s wedding set,” she said in a quiet, calm voice.

“I-I am so sorry, Mistress. I beg for your forgiveness. I-”

“That was my mother’s!” Noora suddenly shrieked, her face crumbling as tears fell from her eyes. “You- you insolent child! You are good for nothing! You clumsy little-” she screamed and flailed as Vilde and cook Aslaug rushed from the kitchen to see about the commotion.

But for those few moments of lashing out, Noora felt nothing of what went on around her. She felt numb to the touch of all earthly things as something old and festering broke within her. Like an old wound, every hurtful thing she had ever heard came out of her. Her hands shook and she no longer could see the crying, begging girl in front of her.

She was trapped in an ice cold cave somewhere within. Her voice echoed back to her.

_“You useless girl! You can never do anything right. You are a burden. A shame. You good-for-nothing! You! You!”_

When she came to, she was lying in her bed. No. Her mother’s bed. Vilde was holding her hand, tracing soothing patterns with her thumb over her knuckles and a distant voice was saying she needs to rest.

Noora slept through the day. She asked after the maid first thing when she woke up the next morning. Vilde told her that she had been upset and had not stopped crying all day long.

“I should apologize,” Noora said with a sheepish look. Vilde avoided her gaze but nodded as she aggressively cleaned the room around them.

“I should apologize to everyone. I have been intolerable,” she went on to say as she played with a loose thread of the comforter. Vilde had dropped the pillow she had been manhandling and stared at Noora for a bit.

“You cannot go on like this, Noora. I know I’m stepping over my place but I’m worried about you. We all are. If you don’t want to marry, then you should stop battling with yourself like this. You are wearing yourself to the bone. And everyone is feeling quite tense too.”

Noora looked down. She could feel her face burning in embarrassment. She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded in agreement. “I should apologize to everyone.” Vilde pointedly ignored Noora, but her response was clear enough.

And thus ended the crusade. Thirty minutes later found Noora standing in the kitchen in front of a very pale and drooped Milfrid, as she stumbled over her apology. The back of her dress clung to her with sweat; a ringing noise in her ears. She could barely look the girl in the eyes as she tripped over her apology.

The rest of the kitchen staff, were in the adjoining room, tripping over each other to overhear the conversation.

“Milfrid, is it?” Noora asked nervously.

The girl gave a small nod, still staring at her clasped hands in front of her.

“That is a very beautiful name,” Noora said as she mentally kicked herself for her lame comment.

She cleared her throat once again and continued, “About what happened yesterday… I am truly appalled of my outburst. There is no excuse for how I behaved. I am sorry to have caused you any grievance. This will never happen again. I am truly thankful for the work you do here.”

Milfrid blushed at Noora’s words and slowly lifted her eyes to give a tearful smile to her. “It’s quite alright, miss.”

“No, it really was not. There is no excuse. You all work so hard and I appreciate that very much.”

Noora then looked over toward the other room as the staff, suddenly embarrassed to have been caught, scattered away. Noora suppressed her laughter and with a voice that they would all hear said: “In fact, I am going to give everyone the week off. You have been working so hard these past few months and you deserve a break.”

The sound of gasps and cheers rose and Milfrid stared at Noora with wide eyes and her mouth agape. Noora nodded encouragingly towards her and with a small bow, she joined the rest of the staff.

One by one, the staff came over to thank Noora for the impromptu holiday and bid her farewell as they made their way towards their respective houses.

Soon the house was empty but for Noora. She wandered the empty hallways of the house. The quiet that had settled around the house helped her think.

She knew it was pointless to keep up the charade. She had no desire to marry at this time and no amount of threatening from her late father would change her mind. And it was unfair both to her and the young gentlemen-not to mention the staff of the house- as she went on to lie to herself and them alike, pretending there was even the slightest chance that they would end up married.

And truth be told, she had no desire to spend the money for the time being either. The rose garden was closed for the cold season and the factory’s work was in order. Deep down, she was aware that her insistence on having control over the money was a last resort to prove to her father that she could do this. It seemed as though all her life she had just lived by doing anything that would make her parents see her. The real her. See that she was capable of living without bowing to their traditions and standards.

She made a frustrated noise. There was no point. Her parents were gone and they had had the last word. She was defeated.

***

It was during this time that Noora met Mikael Boukhal. She came upon him one evening as she made her way back towards the Barony after her walk.

He stood by the bakery and was engaged in a very heated argument with Herr Nørrstelien.

The young man had brown hair that reached to his shoulders. His clothes were of a fine cut however very old. He sighed in frustration as he knotted his hat in his fists. The old man standing in front of him, was an associate of Mr. Bakkoush who Noora had been acquainted with a few times by now. He stood in front of the young man and matched his petulant glare just as fiercely with a frown and a set jaw.

“You lot have no respect for the art! This country deserves to have art! That is what makes the people,” the young man said in a sharp voice.

“I will not tolerate such a tone, young man. As I said, I don’t run a charity. Go fund your _art_ elsewhere. Or if you do not have the means to _culture the people_ , perhaps you are not the man for the job after all!” The old man spat with a smirk and crossed his arms.

The young man seemed to get redder and redder in the face by the second! He was shaking and Noora was sure soon steam would rise out of his ears. Hiding her smile in her scarf, Noora approached the men.

“Good evening, Herr. Nørrstelien,” Noora greeted him and with a pointed glance towards the young man asked: “Is everything alright.”

“Quite, Miss Sætre. Nothing of worry. Mr. Boukhal was just about to leave,” Herr. Nørrstelien said nonchalantly. The young man had hissed and glared at him.

Noora swallowed her smile. “I gathered there was an issue to be addressed?” This caught the attention of both men. Herr. Nørrstelien gave a disappointed look to Noora just as the young man launched into a lengthy speech about a play he intended to produce.

Based on what the young man told Noora that day, she learned that he and two friends, were in the business of theater and they had put together a play they were very eager to perform. However, there was an issue of funding and money. Herr. Nørrstelien had been the man to invest on their play but he has backed down just a month before they were to start rehearsals.

Noora was fascinated by the tale and told him as much. Mikael Boukhal, being man of iron determination and with a head for business, had suggested Noora drop by the theater the next day to see their performance up close. Noora had agreed.

The situation was beneficial to both parties. It had been just a day before that Noora had dropped her copy of _Victoria_ on the settee and thought how pathetic her life had become. She had decided to find a hobby. Endorsing art had been at the very top of the list.

Just then Mikael Boukhal walked into her life with a theatrical adaptation of _Victoria_ in hand! One would argue that it was divine intervention.

So the next day, Noora went to see a group of young actors perform three pages of _Victoria_ , knowing full-well that she had a business proposition for Mikael.

“That was quite nice. You have truly captured the characters,” Noora complimented with a smile as Mikael offered her a cup of tea.

“That’s very kind of you, miss. I’m afraid we will not be able to continue, however. It’s a true pity,” Mikael said with an exaggerated frown.

“That is exactly what I meant to talk to you about. How would you like to have an heiress as a benefactor?”

Ever since then, Noora had provided a generous amount of money, in the form of investment to Boukhal and his crew and every other week, went by to see the results.

It was the second week of December, when Noora went by the theater, again. She had not visited the theater in over a month since Sana and her husband had been back from Tromsø. The month had been a blur of parties and morning and evening calls and the girls were reunited.

Noora was still shaken after their meeting. Sana had seemed …  reserved. She had tried to pry something from her after she had talked to Vilde who had sensed the same thing.

However, Sana had remained cryptic and just said: “There is a lot between heaven and earth that none of us know. Sometimes it is just so that we don’t.”

Noora hadn’t felt as though she had any more place to prod and had let the subject drop. But she still worried. She had wanted her friend to be happy and content with her life and that had not been so.  But there was nothing she could do without it being rude.

Perhaps, it was just that she missed her family and her friends. Perhaps, all that was required was that she got used to her new circumstances.

At last, Sana and her husband had left for Tromsø on Sunday and Noora once again was faced with too much time and too little to do.

Visiting the theater had seemed like the logical solution. Along the way, however, she had made the driver stop by the market to see about the Christmas celebrations. With the festivities a mere week away, the town had been transformed into a world of wonder.

The shops were filled with green and red ornaments and holly garlands. Small angels and candy canes were hung from ceilings and small candles shined a warm glow in the streets. By the church, a group of carolers sang songs. Families milled about, following their small children as they ran from one shop to the other.

Noora spent much longer than she had anticipated in the crowded streets. Something about the smell of warm gløgg and the sweet serenade of carols made her legs weak. She went from one shop to another as she collected items she thought the staff would like. She wanted to stand by and take in everything. But fear of missing Mikael made her shuffle back to the car when she was done buying everyone a gift. With the car filled with parcels wrapped in tan papers, they made their way to the theater.

By the time they arrived, it was way past afternoon and the front of the theater was deserted. Noora fidgeted with her scarf and worriedly looked about. She was determined to meet with Mikael on this very day. She was sure that this was her only chance to do so before she would be occupied with the Yule party and so would have to wait until the next year to meet. And she wanted to make sure all was in order before then.

The driver opened the door. Noora smiled her thanks and made her way towards the entrance.

*

The actors had left early that day. It was the last day of rehearsals before Christmas and everyone was in a rush to get back home. Isak had been quite restless too. He kept on exchanging loaded glances with Even. Eva, exasperated with their antics had suggested Isak leave with Even and she would make her way home after she was done sweeping and putting away the props. She had not mentioned that she wanted to take the chance to dance a bit more now that everyone was leaving early.

Isak worried that Eva should not travel alone but Kasper volunteered to pick her up later as he had business in the town and could accompany Eva back home after he was done. This had put Isak at peace and with that reassurance, Even and Isak left, leaving Eva to do as she pleased in the empty theater.

Eva twirled around the empty stage and stretched her legs to warm them up. She tried not to grin but couldn’t hold back her smile for long. With a playful bounce, she moved to the side of the stage where she had left the mop and water bucket.

She picked the mop and leaned against it. She held the handle for support and with a measured inhale, got ready to move. As usual, her mind went blank. A sheet of white nothingness set over her jumbled thoughts. The soft light of the stage behind her closed lids and the soft sound of her breaths in her ears.

She moved her legs into their proper position; stretched and pressed close in a 180-degree position. Her back straight as an iron rod already began to ache. She moved her right feet up and curled it as she bent her knee into passé position. She could feel her body protest as she abused it into the forms it had long forgotten how to form. Her body was no longer used to the hard work and despite her practice the past month, it still took an incredible amount of concentration and determination to hold her posture.

She ignored the pain and stretched her leg to the side, unfolding it and lifting it in smooth, fluid movements into a développé. Her heart gave a stutter as her cheeks warmed with satisfaction. In her mind, a piano tune played. Quiet, soft notes accompanying her precise moves. She moved her arm up to her leg. Her arm shook under the strain.

She exhaled and opened her eyes. The music tiptoed around her mind, biding its time and urging Eva into her next movement. Eva closed her eyes again. With her moves etched in her mind, her open eyes only serve to distract her and she had long realized closing them was more beneficial.

She brought her leg down. Finally, letting the handle go, she let the mop fall and lifted on her toes. Her lips lifted up in a faint smile. And her legs circled and twirled in a soutenu. She spun the length of the stage her hair flew around her like crimson waves of an enchanted sea. The air swirled in her ears and her heart beat twice as hard as before. The music in her mind crescendoed with dramatic intensity and Eva matched her pace to it.

She lost track of time and her body ached and screamed and bent to her whim. Every now and then, she would set a wrong step and stop to begin again. What would have been a frustrating and tiring procedure, barely registered with her in her dedicated motions.

A loud banging noise snapped Eva out of her trance. Her feet stuttered in their move and twisted around. With a sudden move, Eva’s leg slammed down on the floor. Her knee bent under the unexpected pressure and Eva landed with a cut-down shriek on the floor. The music her mind had stopped and her heartbeat was the only beating rhythm in her ears as she took harsh huge gulps of air in and tried to regain her composure.

When her heart had calmed a bit, she lifted her eyes towards the source of the noise. A small figure stood at the edge of the salon by the last row of seats.

Noora, embarrassed, tied her scarf around her fingers and smiled feebly towards the girl on the stage. It had not been her intention to startle her so. But when she saw the lights in the room, she assumed it was the cast rehearsing and went to find Mikael. Only to see a lone figure, twisting and turning on the stage in a graceful and harsh dance with no music.

Her movements were soft and delicate at some points but determined and powerful at others. She could see small body of the girl was bowed down under the force of her movements but she did not stop and gracefully kept on.

It had taken Noora’s breath away. She could not describe the feeling but it felt as though she had never seen dancing before and this was the first time she saw such exotic movements. And perhaps she had not. Never had she seen a dancer move with such a burning passion. Each misstep felt as though it were an invention of an entirely new move. Perfect because of its imperfection.

And it was as though she had been seeing the world in black and white and only knew what color was when she saw the glow of the light in the girl’s auburn locks. Her heart gave out an uneven beat and her hand jerked suddenly to grasp at her mouth without realizing that she was actually letting go of the door which proceeded to slam shut. Noora flinched and ducked at the jarring sound as the girl on the stage gasped and fell in her startled state.

For a beat, they both stood frozen in their positions and started in awe and bewilderment at each other before Noora snapped out of her position.

“I am so sorry to have startled you. I was so taken by your dancing,” she said as she slowly made her way towards the front of the salon. “You dance very beautifully.”

“Thank you,” Eva replied with a frown. “But I really don’t. I am very out of practice.”

“That looked…perfect,” Noora said simply, not sure how else to express her feelings towards what she had just witnessed. Eva blushed. “I’m Noora Sætre.” She lifted her hand toward the girl on the edge of the stage.

Eva lifted her hand to grasp Noora’s, her fist uncurling from its defensive stance on the floor when it had broken her fall. “Nice to meet you. I’m Eva. I work for the theater.”

Eva grasped Noora’s hand to shake it which gave the girl a startle. Eva was not sure why but did not linger on it. Instead, she took the time to take in the expensive looking fabric of her clothes and her blood red lips and her styled hair. She let go of Noora’s hand after a moment, feeling self-conscious beside the opulent state of her. Her face warmed and she looked away.

“Can I help you with anything, miss?” She asked quietly.

Noora paused for a while, taking in Eva’s rosy cheeks and the sweaty streaks of hair that were stuck to her face. She had to shake herself out of it once more before she stuttered. “Actually, I’m here to meet with Mr. Boukhal but I can see he is not here.” She glanced around as though trying to find Mikael hiding behind a curtain or the water bucket.

“Oh, the rehearsal ended early tonight. Everyone was most excited to get home for the Christmas celebrations,” Eva said with a smile.

“But not you?” Noora asked as she returned her smile.

Eva’s eyes widened a bit. “Oh! I would too! But I had to stay and clean and-” she stopped and looked around when she realized she had not exactly been cleaning.

Noora laughed softly. “You have done a good job! The place is spotless!”

Eva’s head whipped around to see the playful look in Noora’s eyes as she suppressed her laugh. Eva felt her own laughter bubble in her throat and slip out in an unladylike snort. She lifted her hand to cover her mouth in mortification but her laughter had made Noora burst in laughter and soon they were laughing and shaking in meaningless jubilance.

When they had both calmed down, Noora took a deep breath and said: “I supposed I should leave then. I will not keep you here. If you see Mr. Boukhal, please tell him I dropped by.”

“Of course, I will.” Eva nodded. With another kind smile, Noora turned around and walked back the way she had come. Eva slowly stood. Her limbs protested in pain but she managed to hide her grimace as she slowly walked back to retrieve her mop and bucket.

“Oh and Eva?” She heard Noora say just as she had reached the bucket. “If you would like, you can drop by the barony Rosendal sometimes. We have a piano there. Perhaps practice will be more pleasant with some music?” She said this and with brilliant smile that flashed her straight white teeth, slipped out of the door.

Eva stood frozen in place, her mouth hanging open. Sætre. Barony Rosendal. The heiress who funded the play.

She had just met the rich and famous heiress of Rosendal.


End file.
